


The Journey To Forgiveness

by Creej



Series: Gone Too Far [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, reference to suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 06:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11754435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creej/pseuds/Creej
Summary: Neal gets another chance and ghost!Peter helps him overcome his guilt.





	The Journey To Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't planned on making this a series but a seed was planted and it grew into this.

Neal looked up as a guard stopped outside his cell, wondering why he was there. It was way too early for bedcheck, lunch was only about an hour ago, it wasn't time for his hour out on the yard. The only reason he could think of was they were going to toss his cell but that didn't seem right - if they were going to toss his cell, there'd be at least two guards. Of all the reasons he could think of, the one he least expected was the one he got.

"Caffrey, you have a visitor."

He didn't try to school away his look of confusion as he stood. Who would visit him? Kate was dead, as was Ellen and Peter, Moz was probably in the wind and he doubted Elizabeth would come. It had been more than two years since Peter had died - had killed himself due to Neal's manipulations - a year since he returned to New York and turned himself in, eleven months since he was locked up in the same prison he'd escaped from to look for Kate - this time in AdSeg due to his having worked for the FBI as an informant. Some of his prisonmates were people he'd helped put there.

He stood back as his cell door opened, reflexively turning around and putting his hands behind his back, waiting to be cuffed.

"You planning on causing trouble, Caffrey?"

"No sir," Neal said.

"Then no need for cuffs," the guard, McKenzie, said. "Come on."

Absently, he rubbed his wrists as he followed the guard through the prison, ignoring the calls of "Snitch!" "Sellout!" and the death threats that followed him. It was the label of snitch that bothered him the most - not the death threats - maybe because he felt he didn't deserve to walk the Earth after what he'd done...even if no one knew. He knew and it was the one guilt he wasn't sure he could move past, despite what Peter - Peter's ghost - had said. He hadn't _made_ Peter pull the trigger, firing the bullet that ended his life but he'd made the agent's life a living hell, made him feel that death was the better alternative to living under the constant threat of exposure and loss of respect. Had the evidence of the rape Neal had staged become known, Peter faced the loss of his job, the loss of his teamates' respect, Elizabeth would have been hurt and questioned the kind of man her husband really was and the guilt...the guilt that a Catholic of Peter's generation had been raised on...was enough to risk the Hell Peter probably hadn't really believed in.

On top of the surprise he felt at having a visitor was the confusion at seeing who waited for him on the other side of the barrier, Agent Diana Berrigan.

"Agent Berrigan," Neal said formally. He didn't feel entitled to the familiarity they had while working together.

"Neal. How's life treating you?"

Better than I deserve, he thought. "Pretty good, considering," he said. "I admit to some curiosity about the purpose of your visit though."

She leaned forward, arms crossed on the counter. "You want out of here?" she asked.

Neal's brows shot up in surprise. "I'm in on a third strike," he said. "I thought that meant I was in for good. At least, that's what Peter told me."

"That was before we caught the Dutchman," Diana said. "With your help. Not to mention all the other cases you helped close." She saw his question. "This was my idea, Neal. The DOJ is still convinced you're a flight risk. At least they were until I pointed out you're a voluntary surrender. Someone planning to run wouldn't do that. Also, reports from the guards and the warden say you're a model prisoner, you keep your head down and your nose clean."

"I'm in AdSeg," Neal said. "No contact with other prisoners. Not much trouble I could get into."

"I know you Caffrey," Diana said. "You could get into trouble with just a stuffed teddy bear for company."

"What's the deal?" Neal asked.

"Same as before," Diana said. "Back on the anklet, two mile radius, you work with me and help close cases."

"Stay at the motel I was in before?" Neal asked curiously.

Diana let out a breath, her mouth quirked in a slight smile. "Actually, I talked to June after the DOJ agreed to reinstate the deal." she said. "She said you're welcome to stay in the loft if you want."

Neal felt tears prick his eyes - he didn't deserve any of what he was being offered. "For how long?" he asked in a slightly unsteady voice.

"Your sentence is twenty years," Diana said then held up a hand to halt a protest that Neal had no intention of voicing. "However, considering your prior service, they agreed to reduce that to fifteen. If you take the deal, they'll revisit it every year. Depending on performance, it could be reduced further. On the flip side, you screw up and you're back here, no more chances. I won't cover for you like Peter did."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Neal said. He dropped his gaze for a moment. "Do you know how Elizabeth is doing?" he asked softly, hesitantly.

"She still has bad days," Diana said. "But she's doing as well as could be expected. Losing Peter..."

"Was horrible, I know," Neal said.

"She's pissed at you, you know," Diana said. "You didn't show up for Peter's funeral, skipping town when she could have used all the friends she had..."

"Yeah, I know," Neal said in a near whisper. "All I can say is I'm sorry even though I know it isn't nearly enough." He took a shaky breath. "So, when do they need to know?"

"You have a week to think it over," Diana said, straightening. "I'll be back for your decision and we'll get the paperwork done if you agree."

He saw Diana glance over his shoulder and felt the guard approaching. The visit was over. He stood as she did and gave her a nod. "I'll see you next week, Agent Berrigan," he said.

"Caffrey."

 

He barely heard his cell door close behind him when he was escorted back, didn't hear the other prisoners yell invectives and epithets at him, his mind on the visit he'd had from Agent Berrigan. He'd never considered getting his deal back, much less having it be her idea and he wasn't sure he'd take it. This was where he belonged - locked in a cage, cut off from human contact for the majority of the day.

"You should take it."

He turned to see Peter sitting on his bunk, completely at ease with a faint smile on his face.

"Peter? What...?"

"You should take it," Peter said again. "Take the deal."

Neal shook his head. "I don't deserve it," he said. "I belong here."

"You took it the first time," Peter said. "You came to me actually."

"I was looking for Kate then," Neal said. "Kate's dead so what's out there for me?"

"The life you had before," Peter said. "As you once pointed out, it was a damn sight better that what you have here."

"And I deserve it even less," Neal said.

"Since when has that stopped you from getting what you wanted?" Peter asked.

Neal turned away, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Because the last time I got what I wanted, you ended up killing yourself," he said. "I'm complicit in the death of a Federal agent. I should be on death row, not living somewhere with a ten million dollar view."

"June's offered you the loft," Peter said.

"According to Diana," Neal said.

Peter studied him a moment. "Self sacrifice isn't like you Neal," he said.

"It's not self sacrifice if you give up something you don't deserve," Neal said, turning around.

"Then think of it as a way to redeem yourself," Peter said. "You can still do good work if you want. Don't waste yourself here, Neal. You and Diana worked well together and you can again. Of course, she won't cut you any slack..."

"I know," Neal said. "She shouldn't. No one should."

"I have to say, you're not the old Neal Caffrey," Peter said. "The Neal I chased for three years, the Neal who treated the rules like they were just suggestions, the Neal who was a joy to work with."

"It was that Neal Caffrey that got me here," Neal said. "The self centered, ego driven, entitled conman who didn't think much about destroying someone I respected because I was too angry."

"And hanging onto that guilt and anger, turning it on yourself won't help anything," Peter said.

"I'm not suicidal, Peter, not even close," Neal said. "I'm not so much a coward that I'd take that way out." He stopped abruptly when his words caught up to him. "Sorry. I never meant to imply..."

"I know," Peter said. "But you're right, I was a coward, taking that way out instead of finding a constructive way of dealing with the situation."

"That I put you in," Neal said.

"True,"Peter said. "But it still comes down to choice. You chose to do what you did and so did I." He sat forward. "So, your next choice is do you take the deal or not?"

"You really think I should?"

"Yes, I do," Peter said. "I know how good you are, so does the team. Diana will be a good handler for you. She'll give you the leeway you need but keep you in line."

"I don't think that'll be much of a problem," Neal said. "I've changed in case you haven't noticed."

"Oh, I've noticed," Peter said. "But if you take the deal - and I do think you should - you'll need to get some of the old Neal back. That's part of what made you so good at what you did."

"It'll be hard," Neal said.

"You've done harder," Peter said. "I know it wasn't easy for you to turn yourself in, knowing you'd end up here."

"You told me to do the right thing," Neal said. "So I did...for once. And this was the right thing."

"You're a good man, Neal," Peter said. "Just one that got a little lost along the way."

"So what about you?" Neal asked, sitting beside him. "What happens to you?"

"I'll still be here," Peter said. "I've still got my two miles. It's not so bad."

"So you haven't done what you need to do."

"I'm not sure that's how it works," Peter said. "And you can think of it this way, we'll be able to work together again...if you want. You have to admit, we made a good team."

"We did," Neal said. He sighed. "It would be nice, working with the team again, working with you. But honestly, not seeing you in your office, at your desk...I think that'll be the hardest part."

"I can still be there," Peter said. "Sort of. Up to you."

"Why are you doing this for me, Peter?" Neal asked. "After everything I did?"

"Like I told you, I see you," Peter said. "I see who you really are...and I'm proud of you."

 

Three weeks later, he experienced a moment of deja vu as he stepped out of the prison gates, the tracker once more around his ankle. However, this time he was dressed in more than slacks, T-shirt and peacoat. This time he wore a nice pair of jeans and a button down shirt. Diana gave him a nod as she opened the car door. "Remember, same deal as before," she said. "You screw up..."

"I understand," Neal said, getting in and buckling up.

Somehow, he managed to make small talk as they made their way to Manhattan - Diana bringing him up to date on what was going on in the office.

"Who's ASAC now that Peter's...gone?" he asked, fiddling with his shirt cuff.

Diana glanced at him. "You're looking at her," she said.

Neal couldn't hide the small smile at her answer. "Congratulations," he said sincerely. "I just wish..."

"The circumstances were different," Diana finished. "I know. And thank you. It hasn't been easy, trying to fill Peter's shoes but I do my best."

Pretty soon, they pulled up in front of the mansion on Riverside Drive and Neal grabbed the bag that held all his worldly possessions - a few changes of clothes, a couple pairs of shoes, undergarments and various sundries. "Thanks, Agent Berrigan," he said, leaning in the window. "For everything."

"Diana, Neal," she said. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, seven sharp."

The door opened as he approached, showing June with Bugsy in her arms. "Hello Neal," she said. "It's good to have you back."

"June," Neal said. "It's nice to see you again. And thank you."

"No thanks necessary, dear," June said. "I missed having you here. Everything's just as you left it if you want to get settled in."

As Neal made his way up to the loft, memories flooded his mind - Peter picking him up that first day, Moz dropping by unannounced, drinking his wine as they played chess and plotted, Elizabeth coming to him, asking for his help when OPR was after her husband. Almost hesitantly, he opened the door, unable to keep his gaze from the bed - the bed he'd used in his revenge. He squeezed his eyes shut as a vision of him on the bed, Peter behind him, thrusting deep played out. Shutting the door behind him, he dropped his bag and went to open the terrace doors. More memories assaulted him as he gazed out at the view - sitting at the table after the Dutchman case, awaiting the verdict, his relief when Peter handed him his consultant's badge, all the breakfasts they'd shared, the banter they'd exchanged, all the while he'd nursed his hate for the man who'd had him shackled. He felt tears prick his eyes but made no effort to control their fall. He'd miss that and it was his own fault it was gone.

"It's okay to grieve, Neal."

Neal wiped his eyes, finding Peter standing beside him. "Even if it's your own fault you lost it?" he asked.

"Even then," Peter said. He drew a deep breath and let it out in a gusty sigh. "I always did like this view," he said. 

"You did?"

"Why do you think I came by almost every morning?"

"I thought it was for June's Italian roast," Neal said.

Peter lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "That was one reason," he said. "Another was I enjoyed your company, outside the office."

"I'll miss that too," Neal said. He paused, looking out over the familiar view. "I've had a lot of time to think over the last year," he said. "And I realized you were right...about a lot of things. First and foremost, Kate _was_ playing me. She could have told me who was after me, what they wanted but she didn't. I couldn't hand over what Adler wanted if I didn't know what it was and she had to know that. She expected me to figure it out with no clues except that it was something I took. And someone had to tell her I was out, about my deal. My guess is it was Fowler." He paused again. "She tried to imply it was you," he said. "She said it was someone close to me."

"And I was your first suspect," Peter said. "Understandable. I don't blame you for that, especially after I told you I'd met with her."

"That's when she told you about the music box, that she'd cut me loose if she got it," Neal said. He sighed. "You were right - if she really did love me, she wouldn't have given me up for a thing, no matter what it was worth." He huffed out a somewhat bitter laugh. "I gave up plenty for her," he said. "My freedom for one. I got another four years and one step closer to a third strike just so I could be with her. I had no way to get to my caches so in a sense I lost them too..." He glanced at his companion. "And no, Moz doesn't know where all of them are," he said then corrected himself. "Were."

"They're all gone?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, unless you count Samuel Franklin's bank account," Neal said. "Before I came back, before I turned myself in, I transferred all his holdings into my name...mostly so I'd have money for the prison commissary. Now I can use it to get more clothes, buy groceries, necessities."

"I doubt June would mind if you borrowed Byron's wardrobe again," Peter said.

Before he was finished, Neal was shaking his head. "I don't really want that much of the old me back," he said. "That part made me believe I was better than everyone and the suits just played into that, made me believe my own con."

"It's okay to appreciate the finer things in life, even to have them," Peter said.

"But I didn't earn most of those finer things," Neal said. "I either stole them or sweet talked my way into getting them." The laugh he gave was a little amused. "Told you, I had a lot of time to think. AdSeg is a great place for introspection. I'm not Peter Pan anymore. I've grown up, did what you said and took responsibility for what I did, accepted that fact that I couldn't have protected Kate...or Moz anymore than I had. What happened to them was out of my control." He regarded his former handler a moment. "And I had no control over what you did," he said.

"No, you didn't," Peter said. "That's mine to own and no one else's."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and Neal once again wondered who could be visiting as he went to answer it. Who he found was a bigger shock than finding Diana on the other side of the glass at the prison three weeks earlier. "Elizabeth," he said, stepping back to let her in, noting the changes grief had caused. She looked older, there were new lines on her face and she was more reserved than she was before.

"Neal," she said as she stepped inside.

"I'd ask how you've been but that would be the stupidest question ever asked," Neal said. "I know it won't change anything but I'm sorry."

"I just want to know why you didn't pay Peter the respect he deserved," Elizabeth said a bit angrily. "He was your _friend_ Neal and you couldn't be bothered to attend his funeral. Instead, you skipped town to who knew where."

"Because my being there would have been an insult to his memory," Neal said. "Yes, he was my friend, I realize that now but..." He blinked back the tears that threatened and finished in a hoarse whisper. "I really wasn't his..." He drew a shaky breath. "I hated him, Elizabeth, hated him for things I'd convinced myself he'd done, things he didn't do...blamed him for things he couldn't control..." He stepped back, putting distance between them and cleared his throat. "I was too self centered to see everything he did for me, things I didn't deserve. If you don't want anything to do with me, I understand. If you hate me, I understand that too. I don't expect you to forgive me and I won't ask you to. All I can say is I'm sorry." He forced himself to meet her piercing gaze as she studied him, hating himself for being too much of a coward to tell her what he'd done. "If I could bring him back, I would," he whispered. "Be the friend he thought I was." He felt the tears fall and made no effort to stop them.

Elizabeth said nothing as she walked around and Neal did nothing to break the silence. Finally she turned back to him. "I see you landed on your feet...as usual," she said.

"I never expected to see the outside again," Neal said. "I was in for a third strike so I should still be there." He dropped his gaze. "It's where I belong after...everything," he whispered.

"Diana told me she was getting you out. I told her she was crazy, that you'd just run again. It's what you're good at."

"I'm not going to run Elizabeth," he said. "Just because I belong in prison doesn't meant I want to be there. I know how lucky I am and I won't take this chance for granted."

"So how long this time?"

"That's to be determined," Neal said. "The DOJ took five years off my sentence and, depending on my performance, it could be reduced further."

"And June's letting you stay here?"

"She was kind enough to allow it," Neal said. "Something I didn't expect."

"And what _do_ you expect, Neal?"

"I expect to go to the FBI offices every day, do what I need to do and come back here," Neal said.

"Sounds boring," Elizabeth said.

"Less boring than AdSeg," Neal said. "With only myself for company." He managed not to react to Peter's somewhat indignant huff and said, "Kate's dead, Peter's gone and who the hell knows where Moz is. If I'm lucky, June won't mind my company once in a while."

"And me?"

"I'll understand if you never want to see me again," Neal said. "If I'm just another reminder. I know I made Peter's life - and yours - difficult and right now, I doubt you want or need the complications I caused." He paused a moment then asked hesitantly, "And how _are_ you doing?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I'm...better," she said. "I still miss him, some days more than others but overall, I'm doing well," She studied him for a few minutes. "And you?"

Neal shrugged diffidently. "Still in a bit of shock at the turn of events," he said. "It'll take a while to settle in, I think. Still used to an eight by ten cell."

Elizabeth let out a breath. "I'll leave you to get settled in then," she said. "Take care Neal."

"You too," Neal said. "And thank you for stopping by."

"I debated on whether I should," Elizabeth said. "On the one hand, I never wanted to see you again but on the other..."

"I understand."

After Elizabeth left, he looked around more closely. As June had said, things were just as he left them, right down to the wine in the rack - Moz must have left right after he did, otherwise the rack would have been missing his best vintages. But before he poured himself a glass, he put what little he had away, ignoring the racks of Byron's vintage suits. He had no intention of wearing them unless there was a need for it.

Finally, he steeled himself to lay on the bed and knew he'd have difficulty sleeping for a few days, not only because of what had transpired there but because the mattress was softer than he was used to.

"It's just a bed, Neal," Peter said from his seat at the table. "If you stay in that mindset, you won't be of use to anyone."

"I know," Neal said with a sigh as he gazed at the ceiling. "It's just going to take a while to process is all. I was prepared to spend the next twenty years in prison, alone in a cell, an hour on the yard with only the guards to talk to and now, here I am, back with the same deal, in the same loft...and a ghost for company."

"I don't think I'll be as annoying as I was the last time," Peter said with a hint of amusement.

Neal looked over at him, a frown touching his brow. "Do you sleep?" he asked.

"Not as such," Peter said. "I...rest." He shrugged. "And obviously I don't eat or drink..." He smiled faintly and rose. "Get some rest," he said. "I'll be around."

 

He was startled awake by a knock on the door and it took him a few moments to orient himself and remember where he was. "Just a minute!" Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he opened the door to find June. "June, what can I do for you?"

"For starters, you can join me for dinner," June said. "I know you haven't had time to go shopping yet and I'd enjoy your company."

"Thank you. If you'll give me a few minutes to freshen up..."

She reached up and caressed his face. "It's good to have you back, dear," she said. "I missed you, you know."

"I missed you too," he said. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

 

As he'd expected, he wasn't able to do justice to the meal June had had prepared - not that it wasn't delicious but it was a far cry from the prison food he'd had for the last year. Prudently, he limited himself to one glass of wine. The last thing he needed was to get drunk and be tempted to spill everything that had led to his running, to his involvement in Peter's death.

"You miss him, don't you?" June asked, proving once more how perceptive she was. "Peter."

"More than I thought I would," Neal said, slowly turning his glass. "It's true, you know. You don't know what you have until it's gone."

"But you have it back now," June said.

"Some of it," Neal said. "Some things can't be gotten back or replaced."

"Do you know why?"

Neal didn't pretend to misunderstand and he knew he couldn't tell her - or anyone. "I wish I could tell you," he settled for saying.

"It's a tragedy," June said. "He was a good man...and he cared about you."

"He was," Neal agreed. He swallowed the last of his wine and stood. "Thank you for a lovely meal, June," he said, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek. "I still have some settling in to do and an early day tomorrow."

 

He found it easier than he thought to fall asleep that night, his body adjusting readily to the bed after the hard, thin mattress in his cell and he slept deeply and dreamlessly until his alarm went off the next morning. He quickly showered and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a polo shirt, finding June on the terrace when he emerged. On the table was a selection of breakfast pastries and a pot of coffee...Italian roast, of course.

"You didn't have to..."

"Nonsense, my dear," June said. "I missed our little routine while you were gone. Indulge me." She took note of how he was dressed and said, "You're welcome to Byron's suits, you know."

"I know and thank you but..." Neal trailed off, not sure how to explain his reluctance to slip more completely into his old skin.

"Well, if you should change your mind..."

"I appreciate it."

 

He was waiting by the curb when Diana showed up to drive him to the office, ruthlessly tamping down on the nervousness he felt.

"Ready to get back into it?' Diana asked.

"As ready as I can be," Neal said. "They know I'm back?"

"Some of the old team is still there," Diana said. "Jones and Blake, there are a few who've just completed their probationary term." She gave him a glance. "But everybody knows who you are. You're still being studied at Quantico, thanks to Agent Cruz."

The old Neal would have been almost inordinately pleased at the news but the one sitting next to Agent Berrigan, not so much. He settled for a nod before saying," I hope you realize I'm not the person I was...before." He smiled a little self deprecatingly. "I'm not the cocky son of a bitch I used to be for one." He sobered. "But I'll do my best."

"That's all I can ask," Diana said.

Neal let out a breath. "So, what's up first?" he asked.

"Today is just to let you integrate into the office," Diana said. "You'll have your old desk back and I'll introduce you to the new faces."

It was a little surreal, pushing through the doors on the twenty first floor at Diana's side rather than Peter's and he involuntarily looked up to the office that used to be his, remembering how he'd broken into the desk to destroy the evidence of his betrayal.

"I still expect to see him sometimes, myself," Diana said, following his gaze. She sighed. "Your desk is where it was. Go on, get settled. Meeting at eight."

 

It was a lot easier than he'd expected to slip into the routine of the office, contributing where he could but he refused to show off his knowledge, make himself the center of attention. He saw the speculative looks Diana and Jones gave him but they said nothing. The newer members of the team had no problem commenting.

"You're different than I expected," a young woman named Shelly said when they broke for lunch.

"What did you expect?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. More flash, more charm..."

Neal smiled. "I admit I used to be like that...and I can be when necessary," he said. "But prison has a way of changing a person, it gives them time to think, realize what's really important."

"And what did you realize?"

"That you should appreciate what you have before you lose it," Neal said.

Shelly nodded. "I have to say, I'm looking forward to really seeing you work," she said.

"Until something big comes along, I think I'll be stuck with mortgage fraud or something equally boring...not that I mind."

Which is what he got when Diana set a stack of case files on his desk. "Start with this one," she said, indicating the top file. "We're dealing with a statute of limitations on it and word is the guy's getting ready to close up shop."

"How long do we have?"

"Two weeks," Diana said.

"I'll see what I can dig up."

It took him a few hours but he began seeing the pattern of money diverted from investors to a private account, totaling hundreds of thousands of dollars. Since he didn't yet have access, he wrote down the account number and asked one of the probies to run it for him. That took another hour but they finally got it and Neal spent the rest of the day tying up the loose ends on the case before writing up the report for Diana. A little diffidently, he tapped on the office door and waited for her answer. "What is it, Caffrey?"

"That case you gave me, the one with the deadline," Neal said, handing her the file.

"Closed?"

"As soon as you make the arrest," Neal said. "It took me a while to find the pattern but it's there. It's all in my report."

"I see you haven't lost your touch," Diana said, looking over the report.

"Some things you don't forget," Neal said. "If you think about it, most of the time I was working on cases like this."

"Sit down, Caffrey," Diana said, noticing he was still standing. She waited until he took the visitor's chair before she spoke again. "You did good work," she said. "But then I knew you would." She sat forward, arms crossed on the desk and looked at him, her concern evident. "It changed you didn't it? Prison, Peter's death."

"It did," Neal said. "This last time more than before and Peter...well, I realized how good he was to me...even when I pissed him off, he had my back. I know he could have tossed me back in on any number of occasions but he believed in me and I...failed to appreciate it at the time."

"It gets easier," Diana said. "I felt guilty about Charlie for almost three years, until I realized and accepted the fact that it wasn't my fault."

But this is different, he thought but didn't say. He'd driven Peter to do what he'd done and though he'd accepted that it had been Peter's choice, it was still because of his actions, so he had to own some guilt. "I hope so," he said instead. "Will that be all, Agent...Diana?"

"Yeah, go on, go home, we're done for today," Diana said.

Neal gave her a nod and stood. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to do a little shopping before I go home. Get some more clothes, groceries, things of that nature."

"You're not going to wear Byron's suits?"

"I told you, I'm different," Neal said.

"I'll be checking your tracking data," Diana said.

"Of course."

 

It was late when the cab dropped him off at June's with his purchases - bags of clothes and groceries and he busied himself putting things away before he made himself a light supper. Later, as he sat on the terrace with a glass of wine, he idly wondered what Mozzie was up to, if he'd managed to make that big score while he'd been gone...and he wondered why he hadn't seen Peter all day. He felt a presence beside him and turned to find his former handler. "Well, speak of the devil," he said. "Well...think of the devil."

"Just thought I'd give you some space, let you get back into things," Peter said. "So how was your first day back?"

"Not as boring as I thought it would be," Neal said. "Diana gave me an embezzlement case to work. It had a statute of limitations deadline on it."

"You hate those kinds of cases," Peter said, stretching out in the chair.

"Better than sitting in a cell, staring at the wall," Neal said. He studied his wine as he swirled it in the glass. "I've been wondering...how long do you think you'll be sticking around?"

"Not sure," Peter said. "Maybe until I'm sure you're all right."

"You know me, I'll be all right," Neal said.

"You'll act like it," Peter said. "Like you did after Kate."

"I don't...didn't have the emotional attachment to you that I did with Kate," Neal said.

"But you have more guilt," Peter said.

"And I should," Neal said, looking at him. "I set the chain of events in motion, all because...well, no need to rehash the details."

"You want to know one reason why I did it?" Peter asked. When Neal remained silent, he went on, "I enjoyed being with you like that. Me, a stand up, heterosexual man enjoyed having sex with another man...and I was afraid I'd want it again, break my vows to Elizabeth again, start lying to her to cover it up. You made me question who I was and I didn't like the answer." He gazed out over the balustrade for a moment then said, "To paraphrase the Good Book, 'man shall not lie with another man, nor a woman with a woman nor either with beasts'. I was raised to believe that homosexuality was a sin as was adultery. Either would send me to Hell. Killing myself wouldn't change that in the eyes of the Church."

"Confession?"

"I haven't set foot in a church since the Book of Hours case," Peter said. "I barely remember the Lord's Prayer much less the entirety of the rosary."

"So you're saying that once I get over my guilt, you'll leave?" Neal asked. He huffed a somewhat sardonic laugh. "I think you'll be sticking around for a while yet."

"Only if you refuse to let it go," Peter said. "You may not hate me anymore but I doubt you like me well enough to want me around for the duration."

Neal dropped his gaze, fiddling with his glass. "I'd change it if I could," he said quietly. "Make it so none of this happened."

"Unfortunately, you can't. Neither can I," Peter said. "All we can do is deal with it, put it behind us and move on."

"I'm trying," Neal said.

 

As the days and weeks went by, Neal settled back into his role as CI and the division's closure rate inched up until it was at the previous level. He found he could slip into his various personas as easily as ever but was mindful not to stay in any particular mindset - not even that of his old self. He was still charming, still confident but learned to rein himself in, stay between the lines and never allow himself to take the chance Diana gave him for granted. And he saw Peter less and less but saw Elizabeth more and more as the strain between them disappated. 

By the end of his second year, he found himself feeling a sense of peace, much like he had when he'd turned himself in. Occasionally, the guilt still got to him but it wasn't the constant companion that it had been.

He was surprised one day to come home and find Mozzie sitting on his couch with a glass of wine as if nothing had happened. "So, you're shackled to the Suits again," he said.

"For over two years now," Neal said, shedding his jacket and draping it over a chair.

"Why'd you run?"

"Because Peter killed himself," Neal said. "Or haven't you heard?"

Mozzie nearly dropped his glass, looking at him with wide eyes. "When?" he demanded.

"Four years ago," Neal said. "You never wondered why it was so easy for me to run? With everyone focused on Peter's death, I wasn't exactly high on anyone's list of priorities. Besides, Peter was the only one who had any real chance of finding me."

"So who caught you?"

"No one," Neal said. "I turned myself in."

"Why?"

"It was the right thing to do," Neal said as he finished changing and getting a glass of wine. "And it was damned well time I did. Two years ago, Diana came to the prison and offered me the same deal I had with Peter. I took it after giving it some serious thought. Better leashed than in a cell."

"And how much longer?"

Neal shrugged. "Undetermined," he said. "As long as I do the job and stay out of trouble, they'll knock off time. So far, they've reduced it by a year." When Mozzie looked at him like he'd grown another head, he repeated, "It's either the anklet or the next twenty behind bars. I was in on a third strike Moz. I'd have been inside for at least fifteen if I hadn't taken the deal." He went over to gaze out over the terrace as his friend thought that over and he wasn't surprised at the next question.

"Do you know why...?"

"Why Peter killed himself? Yeah, I do," Neal said, not looking at him. "It was my fault. I was just so pissed at him, hated him so much that I set it up so it looked like he raped me, had video and everything. I told him - anonymously - that if he stepped out of line, he'd be exposed." He paused. "Less than a year later, Diana and I found him dead from a gunshot to the head."

"Mrs. Suit?"

"She'd left him, couldn't live with who he'd become." He took a shaky breath. "I set out to destroy him, destroy his life like I thought he'd destroyed mine. I succeeded...better than I'd dared dream."

"So...what? You're paying penance?"

"You could say that," Neal said. He let out a breath of laughter. "It's not so bad," he said. "No worse than I had before, better then AdSeg. It's a good life Moz. I'm okay with it."

"So no chance of getting back into the life?" Mozzie asked.

"I'm out of it for good, Moz," Neal said. "I screw up and I'm back inside. No more chances." He sipped his wine. "I failed Peter already, I'm not going to fail Diana...or myself."

"So the great Neal Caffrey has officially retired," Mozzie said.

"He retired when Peter Burke killed himself," Neal said. "I'm not him anymore and honestly, I don't want to be him again. I like who I am now."

Mozzie sighed. "He was a good man...for a Suit," he said. "And thank God he isn't around to hear me say that."

Neal smiled, tipping his glass at his partner sitting out on the terrace and received a smile in return. He breathed deep and finally allowed himself to let go of the guilt he'd held onto for more than four years. It was time to move on. "Goodbye, Agent Burke. May you find the reward a good man deserves." With a last smile, he watched as Peter faded away. He turned back to Mozzie. "So, tell me what you've been up to. We have a lot to catch up on..."

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to give me an idea for a fourth instalment in this series - or another story - let me know in the comments.


End file.
